


Déjàvu

by aliciawillromance



Category: Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:10:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciawillromance/pseuds/aliciawillromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It felt like a déjà-vu. No, actually it felt more like a nightmare. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Déjàvu

It felt like a déjà-vu. No, actually it felt more like a nightmare.

Sitting on his couch, papers scattered all over the living room coffee table, Will was listening without really paying attention to Peter's speech on his run for governor till he heard him saying that familiar name… "Alicia…" "Wife…" He instinctively looked up at the television.

She was standing there, right by his side. He couldn't stop looking at her and Will couldn't stop thinking that she had chosen Peter over him. Again. After all he did, she was still standing by him.

Will wasn't sure what was more hurtful. Knowing he had her and lost her or knowing he had her and lost her  _again_.

Still gazing at the screen, Will couldn't help but notice Alicia wearing the red dress beneath a very simple black jacket. That red dress that turned him on by only watching her walk in it. That same red dress he almost ripped in the heat and eagerness of wanting to take her in his office bathroom only few months before. He smiled at the memory before his mind went back to the day she broke up with him.

He missed her so much.

" _She'll get over it."_  Diane's words still echoed from that day. She sure as hell had gotten over it. He sure as hell couldn't do the same.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. He checked the caller id to decide if it was worth taking a call that late on Friday. Speak of the devil…

"Hey Diane," he said, noticing for the first time how exhausted he sounded.

"Will, sorry for calling so late but I need your confirmation for the dinner," she asked.

He stood there for a moment, not sure he understood, still distracted by the television. "The what?" he asked confused.

"The gala dinner, next week… I need the confirmation if you are bringing someone… are you?"

The damn dinner. Fuck, he forgot all about it. Now he had to take a definitive decision. "No, I'm not. I'm coming alone."

"Good," Diane said. "So I can arrange the tables. Have a nice weekend and sorry again for calling so late."

"Don't worry, see you on Monday."

He threw the cell phone on the coffee table and ran a hand over his face, grumbling. He hated gala dinners. He hated gala dinners at which the Florricks were attending too even more. Thankfully he already made arrangements to sit at a different table. He didn't want a repeat of last year's experience. Another night of watching Peter grinning like an idiot would be too much.

As if on cue the TV cut to Peter's triumphant smile. Will immediately turned it off. He considered finishing all those papers but his eyelids struggled against gravity. He settled for a quick shower and bed instead.

"So what do you think about it?" Peter asked, sitting on his side of the bed, waiting for Alicia to finish dressing for the night.

"I think you have good chances. We just have to be optimistic." Alicia turned off the bathroom lights then hung her red dress neatly on the chair before joining her husband in bed. She could feel his gaze, focused on her every step.

"Thank you for being there with me," Peter said in a soft and understanding voice, as if knowing the real reasons why she was doing it.

She stood there for a moment, not sure how to answer. Honestly enough, she couldn't really say that she was happy to be in the spotlight again. Actually it was something she hadn't missed at all.

"You're going to win the elections, it's all that matters," she chose for the easiest way out. "It's been a long day, we both need rest… Good night Peter."

"Yes… Good night Alicia," he answered, with a hint of uncertainty and disappointment which she chose to ignore.

Turning her back to him, she pretended to be asleep. She was so tired that she actually fell asleep almost instantly, accompanied by the feeling of Peter's gaze still lingering on her body.

_One week later_

He was already regretting coming alone.

Outside the entry of the elegantly decorated hall he could clearly hear Peter's laugh.

Will stood there for an indefinite amount of time, contemplating the chance of calling in sick, just like a bad student dreading a test. But then, Diane would probably rush in and pull him back to the fucking dinner by his hair.

Mustering all the strength and pride he could gather, he walked through the lavish vault entry and down the hall, trying to keep his gaze fixed on the table where Diane was already sitting. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Peter and Alicia standing, talking with someone whose identity didn't matter.

With a forced smile he reached his seat and greeted all his table companions. "I apologize for the delay, you know, the traffic…" he said trying to justify the good quarter of hour he had spent in front of the building, freezing his ass in the bitter cold of that late winter night. Diane stood up, approaching to share a very discrete kiss on the cheek but instantly froze.

"You're ice cold!" She exclaimed, stepping back and stealing a glance at Peter and Alicia, before turning to him with a knowing smile. "Did you come on foot?"

"Car heating broke," he answered promptly with the first thing that came to his mind, ignoring her inquisitive expression. "So… many important names tonight…" he changed the subject, but then immediately regretted it when he noticed Diane's look pointing exactly where Peter and Alicia were standing only few minutes ago.

"Do you know that man?" she asked, indicating the man standing with them. He slightly turned his head to look at the figure, but met Alicia's gaze instead. She smiled at him, a smile forced like his own, he could tell. He returned the awkwardness before drawing his attention back at Diane.

"Never seen him before. Who is he?" he asked, although not really interested in knowing the answer.

"Paul Whitman. He's the main supporter in Kresteva's run for governor. This dinner has good chances of becoming very interesting," she added.

"Oh. What is he doing here? I thought we were indirectly supporting Florrick." He automatically felt weird saying that.

"Yes, but he happens to be the son-in-law of one of our associates, Melanie Stark," Diane explained.

"Melanie Stark?" he asked incredulous. Great. A ginormous political conflict of interest right inside his firm. Exactly what he needed. "Are we supposed to do something about it?" he asked, not really sure anyway to which extent they could actually act on it, since Melanie was one of their oldest associates and therefore protected from any political fallout. The same couldn't be said for the firm if this turned ugly.

Diane shrugged. "Not if Melanie stays out of the picture, I think."

He started to evaluate all the possible complications. Alicia's presence in the firm and in his life had always been a double edged sword. They all knew it. He had finally retaken possession of his office only two weeks before, after the six months suspension. He wasn't about to let a political tornado tear him from his office once again.

Turning to get a better look at the man, he saw that they weren't there anymore. He spotted Alicia sitting there talking to an old woman. Neither Peter or Whitman were anywhere to be seen.

He took a moment to admire her and try as he might he just couldn't stop starring. Dressed in a strapless China blue long dress, she was gorgeous. Her hair was pulled up which was unusual for her and left her tiny and beautiful shoulders totally exposed.

Lost in his thoughts, it took him a while to realize that Alicia was staring at him with a curious look on her face. Feeling like a kid caught with his hands in the jam, he gave her a quick smile and immediately turned his attention back to his table.

She was getting bored. Peter and Whitman left to discuss their political connections and she was stuck alone with this old woman, who kept talking about her cats. She pondered the better of two options: getting drunk or killing the woman. Neither would help Peter's campaign, so she settled on taking some fresh air. Well, fresh air wasn't the right word. Actually it was freezing, enough to decide to get back in. Wandering around the smaller halls of the building, she realized how beautiful that place was. Huge beautiful paintings were hanging at the walls, giving the halls an artistic touch that wasn't lost on her.

"Hey" She turned around upon hearing the familiar voice.

"Will," she replied with a bright smile.

"Taking a tour?" he asked, probably noticing she had been staring at the same painting for a good ten minutes.

"Yes," she was genuinely happy that he noticed. "This place is amazing, I could stare at this paintings for hours. And there are some statues in the other hall." She stopped when she realized his gaze was fixed on her.

"What?" she asked confused.

"Nothing," Will said hesitatingly. "I just… I… You are breath-taking tonight. Blue suits you."

"And I always thought you liked me in red," she joked boldly, remembering his reactions to her red dress. He once nearly ripped it when he tried lifting the way too tight skirt to take her against the wall of his office bathroom. Suddenly realizing that she was smiling, she shook her head to get rid of that image.

"I should get back and check on Peter," she said in the attempt to prevent the conversation from getting too personal.

"I thought you were going to show me the statues," Will stopped her before she could run away.

"Will, you don't give a damn about the statues." It didn't need a genius to understand he was just trying to take some time alone with her.

"Are you underestimating my interest for the fine arts?" It was one of the lamest attempts she had ever heard. But it made her laugh. The first genuine and spontaneous laugh of the whole night.

She hesitated. It was wrong. It was damn wrong. Nevertheless, she didn't say a word, just motioned with her head for him to follow her.

Although he couldn't care less about the statues, he had to admit that this place was very attractive. The hall was wide and semi-dark. The gold and blue curtains at the entrance gave a general impression of fine elegance and refinement. Four huge statues, perfectly carved, where placed at the four corners of the hall. Alicia stopped right in the middle. Her beauty was by far superior to that of the scenery surrounding her.

"You were right," he said softly, staring straight in her eyes. "It's breath-taking."

They stood there for a moment, both silent. He didn't want to make things even worse between them, but he needed to know. He wanted an answer that would that would give him some peace of mind, or destroy it completely. At the very least one that would give him a reason to move on.

"Why Alicia? Why did you choose him?" he asked her, regretting it the very moment he saw her reaction.

Alicia shook her head, a painful look. "Will, no. Please..." She glanced around as if preparing a run for it before things got difficult.

"I just want to know what I did wrong. With us. With you." By now he had made up the idea that to Alicia he would very likely look like a hopeless loser.

"You..." she hesitated, looking for words. "You didn't do anything wrong, Will! I... I am the one..."

Alicia looked down, unable or unwilling to share more.

"You're what, Alicia?" Will asked not wanting to drop things again.

"I'm just doing what's best for everyone," she said looking down, thus betraying her real motives.

"Best for who, Alicia? 'Cause there's only one person that seems to be getting benefit from this." There was no need to name him, they both knew it.

"You have to trust me," it was all Alicia could say.

"Why?" Will insisted, refusing to give up.

"Trust me," she whispered. This time she was looking straight at him, her eyes begging for no further questions.

The soft music drifting from the main hall reminded him of how the secrecy of their relationship didn't permit the chance to dance together. Now they were there, alone and safe from prying eyes.

"Would you dance with me?" he asked in a desperate attempt of getting a last chance to be close to her.

She was staring at him incredulously. But much to his surprise, her hesitation was followed by few tentative steps towards him.

She stopped a few steps away, letting him close the distance between them.

With hesitation and trepidation, his hand rested on the small curve at the bottom of her back. At that moment he realized how much he missed her contact, smooth, welcome, it felt right.

He looked down at her hand, took it gently in his own and accompanied it up to his chest.

His heart spiked under her fingertips as her gentle hand settled on his chest. The warm heat made him wish the fabric of his shirt was thinner. Or better yet, not there at all.

Alicia looked down at their hands, fingers entwining as their bodies started to move at the rhythm of the orchestral music coming from the main hall. He inhaled the scent of her fruited parfume as she got closer and laid her hand of his shoulder.

"I didn't choose him," she said in a whisper, before resting her head in the hollow of his neck.

He could feel her body tensing, shaking imperceptibly. He wasn't sure if she was crying. He starting to think of the possible things he could say, but came to the realization that words would only make things more complicated.

Slightly brushing his cheek on her hair, he resisted the urging desire of kissing her.

So he just held her close, stronger, tasting their last precious moment together, repeating her words in his mind.

She didn't choose him. She didn't choose Peter. Whatever her reasons were for standing by him, it wasn't about love. Her heart didn't belong to Peter anymore. Her heart was his.

This thought was both painful and a relief. Whatever was happening then, whatever would happen in the future, he knew that her heart would belong to him.


End file.
